Ash
by walutahanga
Summary: In Mirai-Trunks’ future, we get a glimpse of what could be Maron and her daughter. If so, why doesn’t she exist in the DBZ timeline? Darkfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One  
**

**Summary: **In Mirai-Trunks' future, we get a glimpse of what could be Maron and her daughter. If so, why doesn't she exist in the DBZ timeline? Somewhat darker than my usual work, and deals with very adult issues.

**Disclaimer: **Dragonball Z is not mine, more's the pity.

--

The kid was young. He was slouched against the wall beside the entrance to her building, arms folded across his chest, cool blue eyes following everyone who walked past. He wasn't particularly tall, but there was something about him – an attitude – that suggested he was not someone to be messed with. His face was almost too pretty for a boy's, a problem compounded by the long purple hair tied back in a pony tail. His voice was smooth and cultured as he inquired:

"Maron Sweet?"

Ten years ago the sight of him would have had Maron drooling and making space for him in her long list of boyfriends. However, that _was_ ten years ago and she liked to think she'd grown up a little since then.

"Look," she said, hands on hips. "Before you get any ideas, you're much too young for me. It's nothing personal, but younger men make me look old and wrinkly. So I suggest you forget about having any chance with me and move on."

"I'm not – it's not – " He went red. "I'm here about Krillen."

Maron blinked. She'd expected Krillen to respond to her message personally, rather than sending a messanger. But still, any response was better than none.

"Oh. In that case…" she grabbed the kid's arm. "Lets go get coffee."

--

Maron took him to the little shop round the corner and flirted with the waitor a little to get her favourite table. She ordered a latte with skim milk, whilst the kid stared at the menu, baffled.

"What, you've never had coffee before?" She said.

"No," he said quickly. "It's just… I didn't know there were so many kinds!"

His confusion was actually kind of adorable in a kid-brother kind of way, so she ordered a cappuchino for him. As the waitress left, Maron leaned forward in her chair.

"So," she said eagerly. "What did Krillen say?"

The kid cleared his throat.

"I'm not actually here on Krillen's _behalf_…"

"Oh," she said in disappointment. "Are you sure? He didn't say anything at all? Did he get my message?"

"Message?" He looked as baffled as her. "What message?"

"I left him a message a couple of days ago. With that funny old man. Ronda, or Rash, or something like that…"

"Roshi."

"Yeah, I guess. Look, if you're not here for Krillen, why _are_ you here?"

He gazed steadily at her with blue eyes too old for his face.

"I'm from the future."

It was so well-delivered, his tone so serious, she actually believed him for a moment. Then she laughed.

"Oh, please! Like I haven't heard _that_ one before."

"I'm serious. I'm from the future – a world where most of humanity is in dead or hiding. A world where machines have – "

"Latte and a cappachino?" The waitress's voice interrupted them.

"That's us!" Maron chirped. She beamed at the steaming cup the waittress set down. "Yum!"

She took a sip, savouring the caffeine hit, and looked across at the kid who was developing an odd twitch in his eyebrow.

"Don't you like your cappachino?" she said solicitiously.

"Maron, I'm trying to talk to you about something serious… "

"But you haven't even tried it. You eat the froth with a spoon."

"I'm not here about the – " He glanced down at the cup, topped with creamy froth, sprinkled with sugar and cocoa. "Froth?"

"It's very nice," she assured him. She watched him pick up the spoon. Giving her a suspcious look, he dipped it in the milky froth and raised it to his lips. He touched his tongue to it tenatively, as if it might bite him. His eyes lit up.

"Wow! We have coffee in the future, but it's nothing like this."

Maron giggled and shook her head.

"Sweetie, you really have to let this future thing go."

"It's the truth," he said matter-of-factly, shoving another spoonful of froth into his mouth and muffling his words slightly. "Just ask Krillen or Yamcha."

Maron smiled, remembering that hottie Yamcha. She'd been able to tell he was interested when they met. If it wasn't for that nagging girlfriend of his, she'd have had him – although it wasn't like she had been planning on actually _doing_ anything with him. Flirting for her was like hunting to others. She didn't feel right unless she went home with at least one catch.

"Okay," she said, deciding to play along with the kid, since his mention of Yamcha put her in a good mood. "Say it was true. Say you are from the future. Why are you here?"

"To help defeat the androids."

"_Oh_, so you'd be here to guide whatsisname, Hercule."

"Who?" He said blankly, putting the cup down. A mostache of froth had formed on his upper lip.

For the first time, the tiniest ripple of doubt crossed Maron's mind. There was no one in the world who hadn't heard of Hercule, their only hope and saviour.

"Nice try," she laughed. She covered up her unease by picking up her napkin and dabbing at the kid's face. He looked startled, then sheepish as she wiped away the foam moustache. "But your story needs work," she told him. "If you were here to beat Cell, you'd be helping Hercule, not sitting here chatting to me."

She wiped away the last traces of froth and paused a moment, hand on his shoulder, studying his face. He really was a pretty kid. Nice manners too. He'd make some girl a great boyfriend.

"We have a couple of days," he said. "There's nothing more we can do, anyway. Except pray."

He looked beyond her, and his expression was suddenly different. There was that something she'd recognised in Krillen, and Yamcha, and even that little kid with the funny hair. Something cold and hard and completely alien to her. She removed her hand from his shoulder and sat back, scrunching up the napkin in her fist.

"Listen, kid…" She stopped. "What is your name anyway?"

"Trunks."

"Listen, Trunks…even if I were to believe this crazy story – which I don't – why would you want to speak to me?"

"I've… changed things," he said slowly. He rolled his empty cup from hand to hand. "Some things for the better. But mostly for the worst. I just want to make sure you're not one of those things."

She felt a cold chill rise inside her.

"In my world, you're with Krillen," he continued. "Or you were. In my time-line, he died a few days ago and you're a widow."

She stood up.

"I don't think I want to hear anymore." She laid money for the coffee on the table and started to walk away. His voice followed her.

"In my timeline you're pregnant."

Her steps slowed and stopped.

"And if I'm right," he continued. "If I haven't changed too much already, it's Krillen's."

She turned to face this boy who spouted impossible truths, and unknowable facts. He gazed back at her with clear blue-green eyes like the ocean.

"How do you know?" She asked, her mouth dry. "I wasn't even sure until a few days ago. I haven't told anyone yet. How could you possibly know?"

He smiled in a way that wasn't really a smile.

"Like I said, I'm from the future."

She stared at him.

"This isn't funny anymore."

"I just want to make sure things go right this time," he said. "I've changed a lot of things already. I didn't want to change this too."

--


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

--

It isn't every day that someone shows up to tell you about the future that almost-was.

From the moment she walked out of that coffee shop, Maron was consumed with niggling doubts and fears; the horrible fear that Hercule was not the great saviour everyone had made him out to be, and the deeper, more personal fear of what was growing inside her.

… _you're a widow…_

A card with the capsule corp logo was slipped under her door while she was out the next day. An address and number was scribbled on it, saying: _'Just ask for Trunks'_. She almost threw it in the bin, but the phone had rang at that moment and she had to answer it.

As she studied the card later, she wondered why Trunks cared whether or not she was pregnant, and what that had to do with the future. It occured to her with a little cold thrill that he might be her son, ensuring that his own birth took place. She didn't know what sex her baby would be, and that hair could _possibly_ come from her.

Finally she gave in and went to Capsule Corps.

--

Bulma was surprised – and not very pleased – to see her.

"Maron, if you're looking for Krillen…"

"Not now, old lady," Maron said. "I need to speak to Trunks."

"My son?" Bulma looked baffled. "He's one year old."

Maron breathed a sigh of mingled relief and disappointment. Trunks was not actually her son. He belonged to this woman.

"Not that one," she said impatiently. "The other one. Or, you know the same one, just older and cuter."

Bulma blinked, then her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"If you think you're going after my _son_ the way you went after my _boyfriend_ –"

Then Trunks walked into the kitchen. He did a double-take.

"Maron! What are you doing here?"

With a little pout, Maron thought he didn't look as happy to see her as most men did. In fact, he looked almost horrified.

"You two know each other?" If anything, Bulma looked even madder. She turned on Maron like an enraged bear._ "You little hussy! He's thirty years younger than you! Just who do you think– "_

Trunks blanched.

"Mom, it's not like that! Honest!"

"Yeah," Maron said, trying to help. "I'm pregnant. That's all."

Bulma gaped at her, the blood draining from her face. She looked from Maron to Trunks, making small sounds that could have been whimpers.

"_MOM_! It's not mine. It's about the future, that's all."

Slowly, the colour returned to Bulma's face, though she still looked a little grey.

Trunks took hold of Maron's elbow, a little too firmly.

"Mom? Mind if Maron and I talk privately?" He said.

Bulma waved her hand.

"Oh, go ahead," she wheezed, still recovering from the shock. "Use the patio."

Trunks dragged Maron out onto the patio, shutting the glass door behind them. Inside, his mother collapsed on the couch, staring blankly into space.

Trunks turned to face Maron.

"I didn't expect to see you again," he admitted.

"And so you shouldn't," she said. "Scaring a girl like that. I actually had this idea you might be my son,"

He startled, eyes widening.

"I…wha…"

"Well it's _plausible_," she said defensively. "You seem pretty keen to make sure that I'm pregnant, and you know who the father is so…"

"Ah." Trunks' brow cleared. "Sorry about that."

She waved it off.

"No problems, sweetie." She studied him a moment longer. "So why do you want to make sure I have this kid anyway?"

"Well…" He hesitated. "It's just that I know you in the future. You and your daughter."

"I have a daughter?"

She put her hands on her still-flat belly, as if she could look through the layers of skin and tissue down to the small life within.

"What's her name?"

"Ashley. Her mother… you, I mean…you just call her Ash."

_Ash_. It seemed kind of… bland. And western. Maron could think of a dozen prettier names off the top of her head. Why on earth would they have called her something like Ash?

"Do you know her?" She asked curiously.

To her surprise, he blushed.

"Sort of," he stammered. "But it in't really… we're just…"

She squealed in delight.

"You have a crush on my daughter!"

"I didn't… we were only… it wasn't like that!" He spluttered.

"Of course it was," Maron said. "I _know_ that look. I see that look everyday. Now tell me." She dragged him to the swinging chair, and sat down. "What does she look like, my daughter?"

"Well… the first time I met her…" Trunks gave in and sat down beside her. "She looked a lot like you mostly."

That was a relief. Krillen was cute and all, but any daughter cursed to look like him had a serious problem. Maron pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms about her knees, hugging her delight to herself.

"Tell me how you met," she said. "Tell me everything. What was she wearing?"

"Overalls," Trunks said. "Really baggy, old ones. We don't have a lot, so we make-do with what we've got. And she was dirty, because she'd been hiding in the caves. But despite all that, she was…" He trailed off, searching for a word and found it. "Radiant."

Maron studied Trunks's distant expression with interest. Her daughter must really be something to make that uptight look fade from this kid's face, replaced by a dreamy sort of awe. She was _totally_ her mother's daughter.

"So what did you do?" Maron asked.

"Oh…" Trunks, if possible, blushed even redder than before. "I called her a stupid-head and pulled her hair. So she called me an idiot, and kicked me in the leg." He saw the look Maron was giving him. "I was eleven years old."

"Oh…" Maron sighed. "That's so romantic."

Trunks blinked.

"It is?"

"Well, sure. All the kids who hate one another in books grow up to love one another in the end. Don't you know anything?"

His lips twitched in a smile.

"I didn't do a lot of reading when I grew up. At least not those types of novels."

"Pity. They're very educational."

She loved making this kid blush.

"You should talk to Krillen," he said abruptly.

"What? Why?"

"He never got a chance to see Ash in the other timeline," he said. "I think he should get the chance to know her this time."

"No way," she said. She stood up. "I left him a message already, and he didn't call me. There is no way I'm crawling back."

He blinked.

"But you're pregnant. Surely that makes…"

"No." She folded her arms. "Maron Sweet does not crawl! She gets crawled to, but she doesn't crawl to _any_ man. Not even cute little midgets with shiny bald heads… and a funny laugh… and…and…"

Her bottom lip quivered as she thought of all the things she'd never get to see again, and she burst into hysterical sobs.

Startled, Trunks patted her shoulder gingerly.

"There, there," he said awkwardly. "I'm sure he just didn't get the message."

"But what if he did," she said tearfully. "What if he did, and he doesn't want me anymore!"

"Regardless," he said. "My mom always said a guy should take responsibility for his actions, even if they're arrogant ass-holes from outerspace who can't fix their own gravity rooms and have delusions of…"

He trailed off, looking a bit pink.

"Anyway, even if Krillen doesn't want to get back together – and that's a big 'if' – surely he has the right to know he's going to be a father."

She sniffed.

"I guess…"

--


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

--

Back home, Maron paced her apartment, thinking. Thinking was not a normal past time for her, and it was hard. Her thoughts just went round and round in circles, pecking at her until she wanted to scream.

She went to bed, hoping to lose them in the world of sleep.

--

She woke up around midnight with a twinge in her belly.

Unable to sleep, she got up and began to prowl around the house. She felt odd, somehow. Different. She felt a faint pressure deep in her belly, and wondered if it was the baby, finally making it's presence felt.

She put her hand on her stomach.

"Hello, Ash," she whispered. "I don't know about you, but I think we should seriously start thinking about other names."

The phone rang, making her jump. She plucked it out of the cradle and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Open the window," said a familiar voice.

"Trunks? What are you doing calling me at this hour?"

"You were already up," he said dismissively. "I could sense your ki."

Grumbling, she wondered if it were possible to strangle a man more than twice her weight and many times more powerful.

"Come on," he coaxed. "Open the window. It's cold out here."

Sighing, Maron hung up the phone, and pulled back the curtains to reveal the kid floating outside her window, holding a cell-phone. She would have been more put out by this if she hadn't seen Krillen flying many times before. Trunks flipped the phone closed and tucked it into his pocket. She opened the window and leaned on the windowsill, propping her chin up on her hands.

"If you're planning to serenade me," she said. "Please go on. But I warn you, I've been serenaded by real professionals in my time. You're going to have to be good to live up to that."

He choked and blushed (she wasn't _that_ much older than him, was she?).

"No," he said hastily. "I was hoping to talk to you some more. About Krillen."

She made a dismissive noise, and made as if to close the window.

"Maron, wait."

He reached out and held the window open. No matter how she tugged and pulled, it wouldn't budge. What did Bulma feed this kid? His muscles were like iron!

"I just want to say one thing. After that you can tell me to get lost if you want."

"Fine," she said, and considered herself pretty gracious to do so. That odd pressure was still there, and she felt slightly queasy.

She pulled up a chair, and sat down to indicate she was listening. Trunks floated into the apartment and stood with feet flat on the floor.

"In my timeline," he began. "There's a saying, that no child is born who doesn't breathe in the ashes of the dead with their first breath. The world is… you have no idea what it's like."

His face was half in shadow, and against her will, she felt herself being drawn in, spell-bound his low voice.

"You know that you could die at any moment, in the most horrific of ways, and you carry that knowledge with you, every moment of every day. There's nothing that isn't tainted by it. There's this kind of…despair that settles over everyone.

"But you, Maron… you offered people _hope_. You reminded us of the phoenix that must be consumed by the flames before it can rise from the ashes. You sincerely believed that we could survive and be the better for it."

"That doesn't sound like me."

"You were someone different after Krillen died. In a time of darkness, when the world was falling apart about you, his memory gave you the strength to carry on, and to give hope to those around you. It was the kind of love that inspired you, and made you a better person for it. My mother called it an epic love."

They were like statues carved from shadows. The siloughette of the boy from the future, and the softly curved shape of the woman at a crossroads in hers.

"You have the same chance here that you had there," he said. "And you may not have to face the darkness that we did. If you have a chance at that kind of love, you should fight for it."

She stared at him, for once completely mute.

_An epic love…_

"I thought you came back to change the future," she grumbled.

He shrugged.

"Yeah. But some things are just meant to be, in every lifetime."

His total assurance inspired her for a moment to forget the ache in her stomach. She could just picture Krillen's eyes widening, and his babbling in shock. And once he got over that, the tentative weight of his hand, touching her belly…

A cramp hit her.

She put her hands to her stomach with a surprised and pained '_oh_!' Trunks looked concerned.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

But she had no time for him then. Nature had its ways of dealing with things, and right now it was telling her to _push down_. She gave into the overwhelming urge, sliding out of the chair and to the floor, on her knees. As soon as one cramping wave of pain finished, another began.

Trunks was beside her.

"I'll take you to the hospital," he was saying, and she could hear the panic in his voice.

She nodded. Fear was flickering under her skin, cold and sickly. _Please Kami, no. I want this now, I _want_ it. _

"Hurry!" She managed to sob.

Trunks lifted her to her feet. As soon as she stood, she felt the pressure increase exponentially. She cried out and he just managed to catch her as she fell, lowering her to the floor. She grabbed at his hand as another pain clenched her belly with cruel claws.

It was over fairly quickly. There was another wave, not as intense as the last, but somehow more sickening. As it finished, she became aware of something warm and wet rolling down her thighs, making the nightshirt stick to her. She was embarrassed at having wet herself, but when she looked down, the stain spreading across the nightshirt was red.

She raised her eyes to meet the eyes of a shaken Trunks. She put her hand over her belly, as if she might be able to feel the baby.

"Is she okay?" She asked in a small voice.

His eyes were wide and horrified.

"I can't feel her ki…"

The stars went out one by one. The moon vanished, and the lights of the city winked out. As Maron passed out, her last thought was that she understood now why she had named her daughter Ash.

--

_They'd tasted like ashes the night their daughter was conceived. _

_Krillen and Maron had run into each other at a barbeque at a mutual friend's – one who was either not aware they'd ever been engaged, or had forgotten to double-check the guest lists. Someone had put damp wood on the fire, and the yard stank of smoke, curling between them like mist. Fine ashes, drifting in the air, had settled on hair and clothes like the gentle fallout of some distant explosion._

_Krillen, having no nose, hadn't been able to smell it, and hadn't been bothered. It had given Maron a headache, however, and she'd turned in early. _

_Krillen offered to give her a lift home. They'd ended up talking on the way home, about old times and old friends. All those little details, points of intimacy, that old lovers had, mapping out a relationship. They were so engrossed by the time they arrived at her apartment, she invited him up, and they kept talking. _

_Talking led to glasses of red wine, and Manilow playing on the stereo, and long lingering looks when words couldn't fill in the spaces between them. _

_She remembered the way he peeled off her clothes, so carefully, and how the touch of his calloused fingers was as light as a feather settling on her hip. She remembered how the scent of smoke still clung to them, even when their clothes were stripped away. He murmured soft nothings, but his eyes were fixed on some distant point beyond her, as if he were already scoping out that horizon. _

--


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

--

Trunks came to see Maron in hospital.

The doctors had wanted to keep her overnight. They'd performed a procedure to clear out the dead tissue from her uterus and were feeding her some nutrients intravenously to help with the blood she'd lost.

Her room was already swamped with flowers and teddy bears from her numerous boyfriends. She would have gladly thrown boyfriends and gifts alike into a volcano, for one measly little 'get well' card from Krillen. Trunks brought flowers too: a bunch of small purple flowers that she didn't know the name of.

"Mother sends her best wishes," he said hesitantly, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched, like a little boy who knew he'd done wrong and wasn't sure how to fix it.

Maron nodded, head bent over the flowers, tracing the soft petals with a fingertip. Bulma barely knew her, and didn't even like her. It was hardly likely that she'd come to see her. Maron suddenly wished that she'd cultivated more female friends over the years. Or, you know, any. Just one would have been nice.

"What did the doctors say?" Trunks asked after a long silence.

"They said…" The flowers blurred suddenly. Maron took a deep breath and blinked the tears from her eyes. "They said it was a miscarriage. It's quite common at my stage of pregnancy. Anything could have triggered it."

The words were an empty offering, and they both knew it.

"Is there anything you need?" Trunks asked eventually. "Anything I could get?"

"You've already done enough," she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but he flinched as if she'd screamed at him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's not enough, I know, but –"

"You changed everything," she said. Her fingers were clenched, her white-knuckled grip crushing the flowers. "I was meant to have a daughter, and when you came back, you changed all that."

The words were on her tongue (_you killed her_) but even in her present state, she wasn't so cruel as to say them aloud. Trunks hadn't directly brought about this tragedy, but indirectly – just by being in this timeline – he had. What event was it, what small insignificant even had done it? A decision to eat this and not that, too much exercise, not enough? Any or all of those factors could have triggered it, or none at all. For whatever reason, in another timeline her child had survived the fall of civilization, while here she… hadn't.

With an effort, Maron managed to open her hand and released the mangled, mashed flowers. There was silence for a long while. Then Trunks spoke.

"I know. And I'd do it again."

Finally she looked at him. There was a bleak expression on his face.

"In my world, the androids killed millions of people. If I can stop that from happening here, at the cost of only one life… no matter how special… I'd do it."

Warm tears slipped down her face. She tried to find anger, but found only an aching emptiness. She turned her face away from him, and looked out the window at the clear blue empty sky.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and he was no longer a warrior, but a young man faced with something he had no idea how to deal with. "I really am. Ash was… I wish you could have met her…"

She didn't answer. He took a deep breath and fumbled on.

"We – Krillen and the others and I – are going to face Cell tomorrow. Some of us might not make it, so if you want me to take a message to Krillen…"

And just when she thought she could face no more grief, fate stepped in and proved her wrong.

Dimly, she was aware that Trunks was still talking.

"…It might be a good idea, because it might be the last opportunity we'll ever get…our chances aren't looking …"

"Trunks," she said, the harshness of her voice completely different from her usual, sweet tones. It cut him off as effectively as a knife. "My daughter died to create this world. This one that you say is so much better."

Her voice broke on that. What type of person did it make her that if she could have that other world back, she'd take it in a heartbeat? Without a second thought? She took a steadying breath and looked Trunks in the eye.

"If you really believe that," she said. "You're going to win tomorrow."

She held his gaze for a moment longer and saw surprise fade, replaced by a modicum of respect. He bowed, and left quietly, leaving her to an empty room.

--


End file.
